Forever the Son
by Vision in Blue
Summary: Natalie pens a letter to her brother on his nineteenth birthday. "It’s been this long, and I’m still mad at you."


**A/N: Most of this was written on my iPod touch, Daisy, while I was on vacation. I proceeded to send this to Twinsie, who lovingly called me a 'Teasing Ho' because it took me a few days to complete and I'd send her snippets once I had them written. (Then I'd go off to frolic in Cinderella's Castle or Epcot.) Twinsie later went on to beta this for me, and help cheer me up for some of April's crappy surprises. So Twinsie gets a HUGE thanksies the size of, um, something really big. :)**

**Disclaimer: Sitting by this laptop, and I wonder what comes now. I know I have to say this, but I don't know how. I've said this a lot since I began writing these fics, and I want to have a disclaimer that sticks. But, see, I have to go to bed soon, and I should make this really quick. I don't own next to normal, so don't beat me with a stick! Oh crap, I just repeated 'stick'…**

Gabe,  
In a few hours, you would have been nineteen. I probably would have sent this to your college, had you lived to see this age. This letter might have included sisterly words of wisdom, like "I'm only seventeen so don't make me an aunt yet" or "if you get into debt, have fun sleeping in the gutters" or even a "don't drink yourself to death." I really can't, though, because you're not alive.

It's been this long, and I'm still mad at you.

Your death fucked us all over, and it had shaped my whole life from day one. Dad was in denial, I could never live up to you, and Mom couldn't move on. I never even knew you, but I hated you. It was justifiable to envy you- the attention you got from Mom, the way you didn't have to deal with any of this. Whenever I had to wake up in the morning, I used to close my eyes and sink back into the covers, wishing I were in your position. It doesn't happen much anymore, but recently it's starting up again.

When Mom left, she didn't just leave you behind; she left a tired, worn out father and daughter. I initially thought the transition to life without her would be easier, seeing as there were many times Dad and I spent by ourselves, but it was hard. It's still hard. Dad's working overtime some nights, paying for Mom's leftover medical bills, his own therapy, and saving for my future schooling. I've been tutoring middle schoolers on top of filling out school applications, just to lighten the financial burden. Due to our ability to fuck up even foolproof meals like Hamburger Helper, dinner is something from the freezer or breakfast cereal.

You don't have to see Dad like this. I know he's stressed and trying more than ever to pull himself together. You don't have to feel your stomach plunge whenever Dad hears your phone ring and the caller ID says "Mom". (She's called every two weeks or so since leaving, but I've only picked up twice. The first time, I hung up as she "apologized". The second time, I told her my thumb slipped  
and took the call by mistake before hanging up. Her voicemails are deleted as soon as they arrive. What more could she say to me, really?) You don't have to live on a fragile line, where things can easily become fucked up while you helplessly watch the deterioration.

Last weekend, Dad and I were trying to go through shit in the basement to sell online. (His recent eBay fetish isn't really necessary to go into right now.) We got into some really old boxes, and only after opening them did we realize it contained your old things. I remember that Mom was going to throw your stuff out, but, well, it was never quite thrown away. Dad froze when he realized he picked up your old blanket. I just watched him stand there, helplessly, as a million painful thoughts hit him like a wave. After a few minutes he excused himself to his room for the rest of the night. You struck again. It was like you were controlling him. When I realized I couldn't coax him out of his room, I went back into the basement and found your box. This box was a catalyst for both of my parents, and I didn't want it in the house anymore. It's probably in the dump right now, if you're wondering; I just couldn't take it. I know I shouldn't have done it, but if I looked at it again, I was going to scream.

I know that I'm supposed to be moving on, but can I really? Even dead, you've been in my life from my conception. I've never been able to see you or physically touch you, and yet I know you. I know you were mom's favorite, the source of dysfunction. You're still here, spirit very alive, and I hate it more than ever. I was under a stupid illusion that when Mom left, maybe you would be gone from us all. There isn't even a luxury of me ignoring this feeling anymore; you've proven that you always come back.

Maybe one day I'll forgive you, but it sure as hell won't be soon. Happy birthday.

Your Sister,  
Natalie


End file.
